


Outside Stateroom with Balcony - Mid Forward - Deck 7

by AuntyA



Category: Bleach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntyA/pseuds/AuntyA
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. COVID-19

Gin turned his wrist this way and that, studying the old dull yellow bruise that curved around the base of his thumb and ran right around his wrist at the crease, mirroring the sharp edge of his shirt cuff. He poked at it with a thin index finger.

He looked at his other hand with a large bite mark across the back. Like a red marker curved dotted line across the back of his hand. Every one of Aizen’s very pointy upper teeth were clearly visible. And the bite mark was accented with a deep ugly dark purple bruise shadow up near his knuckles.

He stretched out his fingers for a better look. The pinkie on the bitten hand was also bruised. Swollen enough that he couldn’t bend it.

He had a gold band on his right ring finger that had been flattened a bit so he couldn’t twist it. He also couldn’t take it off. He figured he would wait for the swelling to go down before trying.

His thumb was showing a muddied lighter bruise under the nail. Gin could barely see the lines left from the pliers now.

He guessed that was a plus.

He tapped absently at his pockets, shaking his head at his forgetfulness, he came up with one cigarette and his lighter.

He had promised to quit smoking before this human world trip. But it became apparent with the onset of the quarantine that this wasn't really the time for quitting. He had somehow managed to sweet talk a small pack and a lighter from one of the pursers.

Because if he had broken his promise, so had Aizen.

He stood up from the deck chair and lighting his smoke, he looked out at the Tokyo harbour lit up for the evening.

He crossed his arms tightly around his body and thought about why Aizen again wanted to push on his pale skin until a bruise bloomed underneath his pressing fingers. Why Aizen wanted to bite him so hard the bite mark was lost in bruising. Why leaving trails of pain on his skin was so important and as proof of what exactly.

He smoked for a while in the weak late afternoon sunlight. He flicked his cigarette butt out into the harbour, and watched the red dot arc down and down into the blackness of the water.

Then he adjusted his face mask up off his chin, back onto his face, re-pinching the nose to settle it better.

Gin looked across at the few people standing six feet apart on the ship's deck for their outdoor shift. The people on deck moved slowly, shaking their arms, doing deep knee bends, turned away from each other, no-one speaking that he could hear. Those people were the indoor cabin people. Trapped in windowless, lightless rooms, they were allowed a scant hour outside everyday.

Due to the sheer number of people on the ship, the indoor peoples' turns at being outside had to be taken over the course of 24 hours. At any time of the day Gin would see the same view of masked people indistinctly moving around the decking. Watched over by the white hazmat suited staff.

The staff in their hazmat suits stood close to the door to the cabin hallways. Away from the exercising passengers. Was the staff there to keep people from leaving or to keep people from coming? Maybe to keep the frightened passengers from talking to one another. He didn’t know.

He turned back away towards the sea. Aizen had stayed in the cabin. He claimed he didn’t want to get any more exposure to the virus for today. But really they were dead already.

The shared air circulation system on board would have taken care of the infection stage by this point. Spreading the infection to everyone in every cabin on the ship.

And also the recycled water. The shared waste system. And so many unwashed fingers touching so many hand railings and chair arms.

Now they were enduring the hordes of staff coughing and sneezing to bring the sad trays of jail quality food and take temperatures three times a day with an unsanitized uncalibrated infrared thermometer.

Aizen and Gin were not able to get sick. They weren’t alive in this world.

But Aizen had wanted to be a tourist. To a vacation at the point in which the hot zone developed.

He was so lucky that it was happening right in Tokyo. So easy to participate in the history of the human world if it was unrolling right in front of them.

Their sea view cabin had a balcony. Aizen had booked it so that they could both sit out there and have a drink, or a smoke he guessed. When Gin had first seen the balcony he heard a small low voice in his head whispering ‘all the better to toss you off the ship’.

Having a cabin with a balcony meant they hadn’t had a lot of deck time during quarantine as, unlike the cheap interior room passengers, they had access to the outside world right from their room. They could sit on the balcony with their face masks on for refreshing sea air.

After Aizen had finally finished marking Gin for the moment.

Aizen’s boredom was becoming a bit dangerous for Gin. He rubbed at the bite mark which had started to itch slightly. Fourteen days quarantine was a long time even for Shinigami.

Gin didn’t trust the medical direction on the ship but again, he didn’t really have to care, it didn’t carry any infection risk for them. It just carried a slightly different danger for Gin.

Honestly Gin didn’t think they could get a virus. Technically they were both very dead already, but they hadn’t wanted to call attention to themselves. Any more attention than what they already sucked up in any room, anywhere in the human world, he guessed.

Gin was certainly striking with his pale hair, enigmatic expressions and beautiful clothing.

But in the human world, Aizen was somehow giving off a powerful pheromone that absolutely no one could resist. Women of a certain age had followed him around everywhere at the beginning of the cruise, up and even during the start of the quarantine when they could. And embarassingly so.

Aizen’s reiatsu affected humans so oddly. They literally were powerless.

Gin snorted, he had thought Momo was a vapid mooning cow in the Soul Society. Little had he known the true extent of Aizen’s range.

Gin would enter a lounge and walk over languidly, bangs hiding his eyes, widely smiling at nothing and the women crowded around Aizen on the sofas would immediately clutch their purses and drift away at his approach. Trailing their hands off Aizen like he was something they wanted to hold but couldn’t bring themselves to just grab onto with both arms in public.

The ship staff was so obsequious Gin just shook his head.

Aizen took it all in stride. He had said he felt nothing for the women but Gin had seen it. The harder glint in his eye. The appraising looks at their ass as they walked away.

Even when they were all trapped in their rooms under quarantine later in the cruise, Aizen’s desperate women would send notes via the food delivery or drop things from their balconies for him. Gin thought it was funny. He’d sit out there for hours staring out at Tokyo harbor but as soon as Aizen stepped on the balcony, notes and assorted candies and stupid shit rained down on them from above.

Some of the staff, the sex of Gin couldn’t always tell behind their protective equipment, had initially brought Aizen special treats once the quarantine began, while there were still cruise foods available, things like bottles of wine, seafood appetizers, N95 masks and extra hand sanitizer. Once all that ran out they just brought their unrequited love. All Gin could see was their eyes. The puppy dog eyes of people deeply madly in love.

Aizen and Gin got their temperatures taken every day.

Luckily the staff was too tied up in swanning around Aizen to notice they were both always in the hypothermic range.

No fever? No. No tiredness? No. No problems breathing? No. No coughing? No. Always no. Probably the only room on the ship with the same answers.

Gin opened the door from the balcony and on entering scanned the room quickly. Aizen on bed cross legged in jinbei and tabi, a book in hand. Gin felt his spine relax.

Sock feet meant no urgency. Comfy clothes meant a relaxed couple hours of companionship. Gin shifted the mask down and started to shrug out of his suit and shirt. Aizen held up a hand. Gin felt his stomach drop.

“Don’t you need to wash first?” Aizen’s tone was firm.

Gin controlled his face. His mind supplied visions of stoic statues and he answered “Sure of course” with an engagement he didn’t feel. He headed to the bathroom to strip.

He took his time removing his mask, hanging up his suit and shirt on their special wooden hangers. He balled up the undershirt, sock and underwear, and shoved them straight into the hamper. He stood in front of the mirror in the garish bathroom for a moment memorizing what his body looked like right now so he could keep straight what was new later.

He pushed his shaggy bangs up off his face and looked into his own open eyes. Out of his clothes he looked even thinner. Thin, incredibly pale, with hard sword hands and flat feet like a farmer. Nothing remarkable. Penis flaccid. Body streaked with various scars old and new.

“You need water to wash.” Aizen was hanging on the door jamb looking at him through the mirror. He looked hungry.

"Let me help you with that Gin. We'll do it together."


	2. Epidemiology & Public Health

Gin was lying face down fully clothed on the bed in the stateroom. Arms and legs out stretched like a starfish. He felt strangely alone.

He thought Aizen might be on the balcony. The door to the outside was open and Gin could feel a breeze from the harbour. The ship was still on lockdown - day nine - so there wasn’t really any other place for Aizen to be if he wasn’t in the room.

If you weren’t in the bathroom, on the bed, in the chair or on the balcony, then you were out of the cabin.

Which was impossible. 

Aizen had been in a strange mood today. Chatty, excited, wanting to discuss poetry.

Much earlier in the morning, Gin had smiled and nodded and handed over his lighter so Aizen could burn a charm on the balcony. Aizen hadn’t told him what the charm was for.

Strange bad tasting foods had been delivered at the morning meal times by the hazmat suited staff.

Staff slid the trays along the empty carpeted passageways and into the rooms to somehow combat germs.

Then Aizen did something to them with his reiatsu and they would giggle and crawl off in embarrassment to a safe distance.

The staff would stand there wriggling with delight, love beaming out of their eyes, the only part of them that was visible, until Aizen gently shut the stateroom door to cut off the contact.

They didn’t eat the sad foods that had been delivered by the fawning masked and gowned crew at odd times of the day.

Aizen had initially grumbled at the quality of the provisions. Not even the offerings by his groupies made him any happier.

In the human world they both had been drinking much more heavily than they ever did in the Soul Society. They both were very interested in the drinks they had stashed in their cabin.

Bottles of wine in the closet. Bourbon underneath the sink. Tiny doll house ice cube tray in the tiny fridge under the desk. Heavy glassware in the cabinet over the tiny fridge.

The alcohol affected Gin in a way he hadn’t really felt before. Maybe once or twice as a child, he had felt the regret of lost opportunities that the booze gave him now. He liked the frisson of despair that each sip seemed to impart.

He wasn’t sure exactly how the drink had an affect on Aizen except to say he vacillated between love and hate much faster and much deeper than Gin had ever experienced him being. Not that the emotion was new, just the weight of it.

They had drunk copious amounts of alcohol watching shitty tv on the sofa before Aizen had started in on Gin.

He had surreptitiously steered Gin into the stateroom bathroom. Aizen loved the close quarters, reflective hard surfaces and the easy access to water. Gin, somewhat bonelessly, had just followed his lead.

Now Gin was recovering on the high bed from their last bathroom encounter, still a little drunk and sharply sore.

Box spring. Mattress. Fitted sheet. Flat sheet. Duvet. Blanket. Five pillows with an additional three tossed off the bed behind the chairs. The sheer puffy weight and feel of the bedding was something he still had to get used to.

Gin missed sleeping on the floor. His room in the Sereitai retained a dual nature when the futons were rolled up and stowed away during the day. 

These strange European beds were so soft, like quicksand, immobilizing anyone who ventured onto it. Having the large soft enticing bed be the entire focus of the stateroom was having an effect on Aizen.

Gin’s wrists and ankles ached so. He opened an eye to look at the wrist he could see without moving his head.

A dark red band of rope burn cut across his wrist like a bracelet. Gin imagined his ankles looked like that too. He had really thought he was going to go over the side that time.

The room was now completely silent. The balcony bright but only containing two empty chairs.

The washroom was dark with a small spatter of what he thought was probably his blood across the bottom of the cracked floor to ceiling mirror by the shower. Indeed.

The room was indeed empty.

Gin didn’t want to move from the bed but he supposed he needed to see what Aizen was doing. They were here as tourists but Gin was slightly worried that Aizen was intending on changing gears and perhaps doing a little live subject experimentation on ship.

He groaned a little as he hauled himself up into a sitting position. His ass hurt. He sort of swam to the edge of the soft bed and looked around for his shoes by the door.

He got his suit jacket from the hanger. Wallet. Handkerchief. Glasses. Key card. Check.

Mask.

He arranged the mask over his nose, pinching the nose down close to his face, flipping his bangs back down over his dead eye after he settled the strap around the back of his head.

He looked in the mirrored wall by the door. Pale suit. Pale face. Pale hair. Black mask.

He slipped out into the passageway and shut the door behind himself. He paused and licking his fingertip, he picked up a fragile square of thin paper out of his pocket on his fingertip, and then stuck it quickly on the keycard plate. The paper hung listlessly on the plate and then winked out of existence.

Now the door wouldn’t open for anyone but Aizen or him. The least he could do while he considered where Aizen might be on the massive ship.

Gin had known that the crew had not been quarantined. They still slept in the crew cabins and ate in the crew dining hall.

But Gin was surprised to see small knots of crew standing around together, masks off drinking coffee or smoking without gloves.

Gin walked over to a group of Filipino crew members standing with a meal cart of dirty dishes by one of the many ramps to the service elevators. A man in the group coughed and wiped his mouth on the back of his ungloved hand.

The man closest to him tilted his head, and frowned slightly. “You’re not supposed to be out of your cabin sir.” He looked at Gin a little bewildered.

Gin smiled widely and opened his hands in an expansive gesture, “I’ve misplaced my cabin mate. Have you seen him perhaps? On the panorama deck, we’re in Cabin 1188… Mr. Aizen?” His singsong voice trailed off.

The man looked at him again more attentively. “Ah, of course your Mr. Aizen. He was going to go talk with the Doctor.”

Gin stood still for a moment or two, waiting to see if there was any more information and then gently prodded, “And where is the doctor on the ship?” His voice sounded funny through the mask.

The crewman pointed down the outside deck, “In the clinic. Follow that deck down there and then past the pool. You can get the elevator down to the main deck from there.” He stopped himself from saying something else to Gin and Gin beamed at him.

A masked woman standing next to him, stepped forward reluctantly and said in a muffled tone from behind her mask, “But you aren’t supposed to be out of your cabin Sir.”

“Oh you know, I’ll end up there shortly. I just need to find Mr. Aizen and the doctor.” Gin backed up, smiled again, bowed slightly and turned smartly towards the direction of the elevator.

He would try the clinic first. The man had referred to ‘The Doctor’ as if that was the person’s name. That had a small familiar ring to it. Distasteful but slightly familiar.

Gin whistled slightly as he walked down the carpeted passageway. And through the doors and out on the decking. It was a beautiful day in Tokyo harbor. Winter sun. No people.

He was brought back to the oddness of this trip by the vague smell of bleach permeating everything on the boat cutting through even the winds from the harbour. He could see groups of crew lazily spraying, wiping and washing everything in sight.

Over by the elevator he had found a framed floor map so he figured out where he was going. He used his knuckle to push the elevator button to the floor with the clinic. Gin took a very chemically sanitized smelling elevator down.

The elevator doors opened on groups of hazmat suited crew restocking trolleys with boxed supplies, marking things off lists and moving testing kits around. No-one really looked up when Gin got off the elevator.

He smiled and bowed at them. He looked around for someone about Aizen’s height in the crowd. He didn’t think Aizen would be wearing a hazmat suit.

He saw briefly through the door of the clinic itself a flash of pink.

Pink hair. “Oh shit seriously? Fuck. Granz. Why are you here?” Gin had said it out loud but he hadn’t thought his voice would carry so clearly while wearing the mask.

The pink hair immediately turned towards him and he saw the leering unmasked face of Szayelaporro Granz looking straight at him. The pink haired freak was wearing a white lab coat and had a white N95 face mask pushed up on top of his head as some kind of hair band. He was wearing eye protector goggle glasses and black rubber gloves.

Gin stood still outside the clinic door.

Granz came sailing towards him waving his gloved hands, his lab coat a white sail. Gin saw his toothy smile.

“That’s Doctor Granz to you sir. I heard you were here Gin. You haven’t died from the virus yet? Aizen hasn’t killed you yet from l-o-v-e?” Granz spelled the word love out like he was singing.

Granz grabbed his arm and held it in a tight grip, then dragging him along, he turned back towards the crew.

”Come down for a little fun with our friends? They are cleaning. Cleaning everything!” He shrugged, eyes rolling behind his goggles, “Although I told them it was futile to just wipe, wipe, wipe. Won’t help.” He smiled with smug satisfaction. “It’s going be very interesting on this boat very soon.”

Gin asked, “You seen Aizen lately?”

Granz giggled, and let go of his arm, “Oh yes. Mr. Aizen has been quite busy on the spa deck. Although he was down here with us just a short while ago. He’s been very busy. He has very high quality medical assistance now that I’m here.”

Gin reached over and snagged one of the boxes from the trolley. It looked like a self injector pen. It didn’t have any markings on it except for a red line and the letter A.

Gin turned back to Granz, “So when did you get here? We’ve been under quarantine for nine days. Were you already on the boat?”

Granz smiled back at him creepily again, “Oh no. That’s your little romance thing you weakling. Luckily for him Aizen told me there’d be a need for some additional medical assistance-“

Granz turned his head quickly to flap his hands at some helpers that had dropped a giant box before it had been unpacked onto the trolleys.

Granz ran over shrieking but not before Gin saw that there seemed to be small white mice escaping from the broken corner.

He shuddered and turned away. Granz called after him “Don’t forget to put your mask on! Oh that’s me who needs mine! Nevermind.”

Gin exhaled slowly into the mask that he was wearing. His face felt hot beneath it. His eyelashes caught on the edge of the mask near his good eye.

He turned back to the elevator behind him to see where the hell the spa deck was and how to get there,


	3. Washing Hands Protocol

Gin rubbed at his eyes trying not to touch the mask. It was hard to remember to not touch his face, hand sanitize and wash his hands endlessly. At least he was trying to pretend to do what was required. 

Aizen on the other hand ignored all protocols. No mask. No gloves. No handwashing. No hand sanitizer. He refused to stay in his cabin now that the majority of the crew had gotten ill.

Gin wondered what Granz had cooked up on the ship. And what Aizen was working on. He rarely shared information with Gin.

Aizen was visiting some crew members in their quarters. He was so gleeful as he made his way around the ship. No-one asked him where his mask was or what he was doing out of his room. Gin didn’t know what he was doing with the crew today.

At least he had stopped talking about world thrones and domination of the human realm. Gin wondered if it was just too messy out here. Humans were generally awkward and technically messy. This ship was a good example.

Fucking germ stew. Everyone on the boat had the virus now. Some passengers had been taken off the ship by their consulates to spend their quarantine period in their home countries. Some passengers had been taken out on stretchers to the morgue.

Gin sat on the room balcony enjoying the sun and looking out at the Tokyo harbour. The harbour was not quite back to normal operations with at least two locked down cruise ships that he could see moored at the pier.

But vehicles drove around on the pier loading and unloading things. Like beetles moving between the orange pylons someone had helpfully laid out in long maze like rows. The little pylons forced the vehicles to drive around humorously going nowhere in circles to get to the gangplank or supply ramps or wherever they were going.

Gin flipped his mask up onto his forehead and took a drag on his cigarette. Cruises offer such a space for reflection he thought. Silent hours alone. Time to think and rethink.

He also had been out of the cabin. The sheer number of sick passengers and crew meant there wasn’t really anyone to keep him from wandering. He was collecting some things of his own both the injectors with the red-labeled boxes and various little items from his own list. A number of visits to the clinic and a little shoplifting netted him tranquilizers, blood thinners and some antihistamines. He was working on a plan, one that was slowly congealing in his mind.

His gaze flicked over to the other massive cruise ship currently moored in the harbour also filled with bored quarantined tourists. That boat had way more people wearing masks on deck that he could see. They also seemed to get more outdoor time.

Gin rubbed his eye again. The good one. He heard the door lock click inside the room and his eyes snapped open. He crossed his legs at the knee, foot bouncing slightly.

Aizen came out onto the balcony and sat down in the other chair. “So Gin. Are you bored yet with the human world boat experiment?”

AIzen was looking out at the harbor. Gin turned his head towards him.

“No my Captain. The foibles of the living are still quite fascinating to me. So different than the soul society.” Gin leaned forward to stub out his cigarette in the little ashtray on the glass table in front of them.

“I’m back to Captain again?” Aizen smiled looking at him. He pulled out a yellow legal pad from a slender briefcase on the floor by his feet. As he looked down at the pad, Gin glimpsed a curlicued list written in blue felt tip of god knows what. Aizen’s writing was beautiful but impossible to read when he was writing in English. Gin was still squinting at the writing when Aizen’s finger stopped on a list item, his index finger tapped the word. Gin still couldn’t make it out.

“Flesh” 

Gin’s head swiveled around at him. “What? I thought you said ‘flesh’.”

Aizen smiled and pointed at Gin. “Much like my last little experiment. I do need flesh for this one too.” Gin thought fleetingly about Hirako, Hiyori and Kensei.

“So human flesh though? Not mine?”

Aizen smiled fondly back at him, “Not you. Never you. The humans. There are so many of them here and they are waiting for me. Syazelaporro is helping.”

Gin bet he was. “Ah so Granz is working with you? Is that how he found this place?”

Aizen said “Sayzelaporro is working for me. And I need him to focus on the task at hand.”

Gin doubted that was happening.

Suddenly there was a shower of small candies onto their heads. “Shit” Gin slunk down in his deck chair. “Your admirers.” He held his hands vainly over his head to avoid getting hit.

Aizen laughed and swept the candies off his head and shoulders. He looked up and waved. When the barrage stopped, Gin asked, “Who is it up there?” Aizen said, “Not sure but I think it’s those Canadians.”

Aizen turned back to him. He leaned forward in his deck chair and slid the pad over to Gin on the table. “This is the plan with which I’m going to shape and reshape the humanity that is on this ship into something. The living have lost their control over containing the virus. So I’m just using the momentum of the virus so I can get started on achieving my plans for the human world gods.”

Gin thought about the shitshow that was the end of the Hogyoku caper before they had to flee to Hueco Mundo with their tails between their legs. He didn’t bring it up.

Gin turned the pad so he could get a closer look at the cursive scribbles on the page. He saw math with some human information factored into the mad science.

“Did Granz help you with this?” Gin was trying to do the math in his head quickly. After the chemical cocktail is introduced, in a volume of .75 ccs times the weight, by the hour, or was it seconds, a second dosage of the redline with an addition of no small amount of pressure and then le voila butterflies.

“Only for the averages. Ganz is very good at that stuff. I know very little about the living. I find them somewhat distasteful.”

Gin did smile at that statement. He remembered the one human Aizen was interested in. Aside from Ichigo so long ago, Aizen just didn’t find humans interesting.

Aizen’s reiatsu had a more refined effect than Kenpachi’s intense flattening effect on anyone and everyone.

Humans across the board were intensely magnetized by Aizen’s reiatsu. They would crawl on the floor on their bellies in front of him if they could, If he wasn’t interested in humans then Aizen was sadly out of luck. They were definitely madly interested in him.

Gin picked up a candy that had landed on the seat of his chair, deftly unwrapping it and popped it in his mouth. Licorice. Anise perhaps. Gin enjoyed the savoury living world flavours, salt and fat for starters, but the odd sour candy or flower flavour appealed to him too.

So Aizen was looking to be a god again. Great. 

He spit the candy out in a high arc off the balcony. But he didn’t see it hit the water. Aizen grabbed his face tightly in a firm grip with both hands and turned Gin towards him.

“You are not as useful as Sayzelaporro is at the moment. Is there something else you can do for me?”

Gin stayed very still although he too wanted to squirm for Aizen like a human right now. The two large hands currently squashing his head were doing strange things to his heart.

Aizen let go of his head with one hand, running the other up his spine to the collar of his suit coat. “Let me help you out of this Gin, I know you like to be a bit more free of restraints when we are just sitting around.”

Aizen slipped his coat off his shoulders and pushed it down around his elbows and left it there, pinioning Gin’s arms behind his back. Gin closed his eyes and lowered his head. Aizen leaned in closer and just held him. Saying nothing.

Gin could feel the hard candies under his legs on the deckchair. Nothing moved. Suddenly the silence was very loud.

Gin opened his eyes to look at the water. Nothing was moving. The water was frozen, held in its waves. A sea gull flying over the harbour still as if on a string. Unmoving in the air. Only Aizen was moving. Everything else he could hear or see was completely still. Aizen was of course batshit crazy all the time but this was new.

Gin said, “Kanzen Saimin” under his breath.

He felt Aizen pull back, then the gull flew on and the waves moved in the harbour. Aizen moved in closer, their faces very close together.

“Yes. Sometimes I lose track of Kyōka Suigetsu and that’s what happens if I’m distracted. You distract me.”

“But you didn’t have to activate it?” Gin was so used to this, having his arms bound behind his back while having a conversation almost felt normal.

Aizen shook his head no and pressed down on his bound arms. Gin buckled backwards to save his elbows. That brought him flat against the back of the deckchair. Aizen smiled. His fanged smile. He lowered his nose to Gin’s unprotected throat.

“You are so pale, so white.” Aizen stroked his hair and nosed down past Gin’s adam’s apple. Pulling down on Gin’s arms forcing him to struggle to keep his head up.

Gin supressed a shudder. White. That was what Tosen had called the failed hollow experiments so long ago. He hated being called shiro but he liked what Aizen was doing to him now.

Gin was flattened against the deck chair, with one hand Aizen had his hair in a tight grip and the other around his neck. Fingers splayed across his neck crushing his windpipe. Aizen tightened his fingers in Gin’s hair and pulling up sharply forced Gin to come up off the deckchair seat.

Suddenly Aizen sat back, shoving Gin off the chair and dropping him on his ass on the balcony floor.

“Fuck man.” Gin complained from the comical position he was stuck in. Unable to get his balance back he had collapsed into a heap. He struggled to get his arms free from his jacket sleeves so he could get up. “Come on. Gimme a hand here.”

Aizen just laughed in the chair next to him and didn't do a damn thing to help get him out of his jacket.


End file.
